


I'll learn for you

by ecapss



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, gotta get worse before it gets better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-21 23:45:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15569007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecapss/pseuds/ecapss
Summary: Jack is lost





	1. Chasing after ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> Alright I know this looks like mark/jack but I PROMISE YOU marks just a good friend alight?  
> This is more of a prologue, most of the story takes place with a certain guylinered hot topic CEO hint hint cough cough nudge NUDGE

“I’m coming in!” 

Mark grunts, struggling to keep hold of a large box filled with groceries as he unlocks the door. He scans the messy apartment, unchanged since his last visit a week prior, and tries not to feel disappointed. Some part of him expected this, but he can’t fully ignore the sudden anxiety at the lack of activity in his absence. What an empty apartment might mean, food sitting untouched. He forces himself to calmly leave the box on a familiar dining table cluttered by papers to search for the apartments owner. 

He finds him buried in a blanket illuminated by a faint glow from his laptop screen, and the sight hurts Mark’s heart. Silently, he prays to every higher being Jack’s finally getting some desperately needed rest. 

“Hey man, you asleep?”

“No.” The scratch in Jack’s voice pulls at Mark even further. At the very least he finds relief in the effort Jack makes to push himself off the table and focus on the conversation. They both decide to ignore the way Jack flinches as Mark joins his makeshift bed on the floor with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Have you slept at all?” The glossy look in Jack’s eyes confirm his suspicions before the slurred reply can.

“Not sure. Don’t think so.” He paws at his eyes, drowning in that damned black hoodie he refuses to part from. Mark can't find the heart to take one of Jack’s last comforts from him, but the fact that it was his makes his blood boil. That fucking bastard.

“You promised me you’d try. That means in a real bed.” He gestures to the chaos that has enveloped Jack’s apartment in the last few days, particularly surrounding the couch. Jack groans.

“It’s not like this is a new issue. Even before-“ He interrupts himself with a violent choke, shaking his head slightly. Mark understands, _before he left, _and moves his hand to rub circles on Jack’s back. “Even before, _that _. I’ve never been able to sleep.”____

____“I know.”_ _ _ _

____Mark squeezes him into a side hug. “I really think it’s time to start putting yourself back together a bit. You can wear that hoodie if it makes you feel better, but-” In his attempt to prove his point, Mark sweeps his hand across the messy room, gaze falling on the laptop. Grainy security footage plays on a loop, an empty corner of some gas station. Jack tenses at the immediate shift in tone, uncharacteristically afraid of the sudden silence._ _ _ _

____“I just-”_ _ _ _

____For the first time since the death, Mark addresses Jack with cold, honest facts. Jack feels himself fall further with every word._ _ _ _

____“You’re not going to find him. He’s not going to be in any security tapes, or records, or whatever you force Anti to hack into. I’m sorry, I’m more sorry then anyone but he's dead Jack! You need to stop-”_ _ _ _

____“Chasing after ghosts?”_ _ _ _

____Perhaps he had been a bit too harsh, too angry with the way that _asshole _destroyed his friend and not stable enough to keep it from bleeding into his words. He glances to Jack only to find his eyes blank and emotionless, reverted back to that first terrible day. His stomach drops.___ _ _ _

______“I know. It was stupid.” The monotone sets off warning bells. It’s never good when Jack snaps like this. He understands the tantrums and fits of rage followed by sobs, but nothing? Nothing is dangerous._ _ _ _ _ _

______“No no, It’s not stupid. But Dark-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______The air is choked from him as a sudden weight pushes down on his chest. Jack holds a silver knife with a black handle to his neck, letting his full weight fall to keep Mark trapped. Mark is more focused, and perhaps more bitter, about the knife’s connection to _him _, then his compromising position. Jack would never hurt him, Mark just needed to bring him back to himself. He speaks softly.___ _ _ _ _ _

________“Jack, I’m sorry for saying his name. I won’t do it again. I won’t take the knife, I know it’s important to you, but you need to put it down now.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The knife falls to the ground, Jack too horrified at his violent action to speak. He stares at his hand like it’s not his, trembling as he tries to explain. He sounds broken._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I’m sorry I never would have, I didn't mean too-“ He hides his face behind clenched fists. “Why are you still here? All the others left. They’re upset with me and I swear I’m not trying to be difficult this time but they-”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The constant voice cracks and pitch jumps make it hard to understand him, but Mark's had practice. The others distain for Dark had never bothered Jack before, but the isolation following his death seemed to serve as a catalyst for a lot of buried emotions. He’s fragile, perhaps the most he's ever been, and he doesn’t know how to handle it. Jack was never one to admit when he needed help, but their lack of sympathy surprised him. He never thought of them as cruel._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Breathe.” The fight leaves Jack as he gasps in panicked breaths, slumping over and fighting the urge to reach up for a shirt color. He isn't with Dark, he’s with Mark, and Mark doesn't wear suits with collars to hold on to when he begins to fall. Jack mumbles into his chest, defeated._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“They think I should be over it by now because, he’s a bad man.” Jack can’t bring himself to say was. It makes him feel pathetic, like a child defending the existence of Santa, but as much as his forced ignorance frustrates him, he can’t say it yet. Mark doesn't correct him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I know. But I'm not them, and I think you’re making progress. I’m glad you even reached out to me.” That was back in the earlier days, the worst night Mark can remember Jack having. It dawned on him then how isolated the man was, that he wasn't the self sufficient worker they all believed him to be. He pushes himself up, his back to the sofa and Jack still buried in his chest._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“You need to take your time with these things. The others are just impatient.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I don’t want to take my time, I want it not to hurt.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________A cold chill breaks Mark at the heartbreak in his words. Jack speaks again, softer this time as if in confession._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“It won’t stop.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	2. And we start again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can't stay stuck in the past now can we?

It hurts in a way that can’t be thought, just felt. Overwhelmingly abstract, but demanding. A conceptual haze of skin rubbed raw and cuts torn at the edges, dull in some places, sharp in the rest. Every piece of him hums out in loss, reflex craving comfort that logic knows will never come. The point of starvation where hunger falls into submission, this new reality unable to settle over traitorous memories of the old one. 

The worst is the exhaustion. The inability to anything above lazily endure time bleed out. He's tired all the time, waking up with the smell of _him_ fading more from their- his, bed when he can be bothered to find it, traces of him replaced by whisky on his hoodie. He hates the thing, but he's afraid if he takes it off he’ll forget more then what’s already gone. 

Three months of some good days, rough nights, and every variation between pass, and Mark is proud of the little progress. He’d visit to find certain foods missing or Jack fast asleep on the couch with TV playing softly in the background, and would make sure to add pasta and maybe a white noise machine to his list of things he brings each week or so. Life had finally settled into a manageable state, but his heart still stops each time his phone rings, expecting the worst as Jack’s name lights the screen.

 

“Jack? Everything alright?” A pause.

 

“Relax, why would I call _you_ in an emergency?” 

 

The tension leaves his body with a surprised laugh, pleased more then anything that Jack’s attempted joke signifies the return of his lighthearted nature. That’s what had scared Mark the most, how someone so full of life and determination could crumble to empty shadows. He had never seen so little of Jack’s lively spirt after Dark’s death. He’d been worried it had died with him.

 

“Same reason I’d invite you to a library.” It’s low fruit, but Jack humors him with a soft chuckle that makes Mark want to cry.

 

“Oh fuck off!”

 

“You started it! Did you call just to insult my professional adult skills?” Jack hums, as if in consideration.

 

“I did, but now that you're on the line I may as well invite you over for a personal apology.” This relights Mark’s anxiety for Jack’s well being, thoughts already racing though a list of possible emergencies that would require his assistance. After everything, he can’t help it. 

 

“I’d expect nothing less but, you promise you're good?”

 

“Yeah I just-” He pauses, and Mark wonders if he's chewing at his fingers, a bad habit he’s picked up over the months. “You said to call if I needed anything and if the offer still stands I’d like some help. And boxes. Mostly boxes.”

 

Mark silently thanks every higher power in existence.

 

“Of course.”

* * *

 

Within the hour, Mark makes his way to Jack’s apartment with a stack of collapsed cardboard boxes as requested, and some snacks that weren't. He waits at the door, playing with the edges until it opens.

 

“Dude, could you imagine the killer fort we could build with-” 

 

The hoodies gone. It’s the only thing Mark can process as Jack greets him, sipping tea from a bright yellow mug and wearing some colorful graphic tee and pajama bottoms. The absence of that reminder, a constant cloud surrounding the apartment is a welcome sight, almost shocking Mark into dropping the pile of supplies as he follows Jack to the couch. 

 

“Before anything, I just want to apologize for dragging you down recently. I know I don’t make things easy but, I really appreciate all your help.” Jack awkwardly looks down into his mug, curling into the side of a throw pillow. “You don’t have to baby me anymore.”

 

Mark immediately takes offense to Jack’s wording, even if the tone implies it wasn’t meant to be taken seriously. Jack smiles as he sputters to his defense.

 

“I wasn’t babying you, I’m being your friend though a rough time.”

 

“You know what I mean.” Theres a nervous undertone to his words, eyes clouded over as if distracted. It makes Mark uneasy as he waits to discover why. “So, I don’t want to stay on this long but I feel like you should know, in case it comes up or anything but-“ He puts his mug down on the table, trading it for his laptop. “I found him.”

 

Cold dread kills Mark’s excitement for progress. He speaks carefully, trying not to induce a panic attack with his response.

 

“Jack, I thought you stopped-”

 

Flinching as if expecting a blow, Jack faces the screen towards Mark with a sad little smile. His breathing stops.

 

A grainy, security footage loop plays over and over again. A man taking a few steps, turning his head, then moving off screen. He watches it over and over in muted silence, unable to make the connection between this video of a ghost and reality. It’s him, Dark, undeniably so with that rigid posture and coal like eyes, two black smudges on the screen. Mark’s mouth is dry, and his voice speaks as if separate from his body.

 

“Where?”

 

Jack puts the laptop away, reclaiming the throw pillow in a hug far to casual for how Mark’s feeling.

 

“Chicago. Some convince store corner a few hours ago. Anti sent it, who by the way is beside himself with disappointment.” He snorts, playing with the edge of his sleeves. “He thought he was free of the bastard. I think we all did”

 

Mark takes a breath.

 

“Well fuck.”

 

To his surprise, his honesty earns a bright and earnest laugh from Jack, who clearly shares the same sentiment and nods his head. “Right there with you buddy. Fuck” 

 

Mark’s panicked thoughts at keeping Jack calm are interrupted as he slowly reaches down to recover his tea. “That’s not why I called you, just thought you should know in case it comes up.”

 

“How is that not why you called me?”

 

“A while back you said you'd help me clean up a bit.” _Dark’s things_ goes unsaid, but they can both fill in the blanks.  “If you’re up for it, I’d like to start.”

 

This is all Mark’s wanted to hear for months, but now couldn't help question the motivation behind it.

 

“I don’t want to hurt progress but-” He hates how difficult wording things properly is to him. He’s never been good at simply stating what he means “Jack that had to hurt. Are you sure-”

 

“I want my life back Mark.” He nods at the abandoned laptop. “I want to stop mourning a man who disposed of me without hesitation. If he doesn’t think I’m important enough to be honest with, so far as to fake his own death, I don’t think he's worth all this pain.”

 

He chuckles at the end, taking another sip. Mark attempts to understand Jacks suddenly resolved logic. 

 

“But what if he-”

 

“I don’t care. I don’t care if he had too or if he's hurt or-” He fades of, waving a noncommittal hand to convey other possibilities. “He’s clearly doing just fine, so why shouldn’t I be?”

 

Mark cuts to the chase, deciding it better on both of them. He places a firm hand on Jack's shoulder.

 

“You’re allowed to be upset over this. I’m all for moving on but are you really okay?”

 

“Honestly-“ Jack smiles that hollow, sad shadow of his once blinding joy. He's always been so expressive. “It’s easier knowing he lives as a liar then died loving me. Now I know I would have lost him either way.”

 

Jacks mature grasp of the situation confounds and fills Mark with pride. He’s in awe of his pure perseverance for navigating the confusing grey areas. Jack makes it seem easy.

 

“Damn.”

 

“Also I didn’t just mean his things when I asked for help packing.” He sits up a bit straighter, eyes glowing. “I’ve even been looking at a place in Brighton. I know it’s far but I need a change of scenery, a new start. I want it to be completely mine.” And unassociated with him, this anchor pulling him down into jaded compliance for letting life slip past.

 

“I mean that sounds wonderful but it’s not because of this right? It’s for you?”

 

Jack shrugs, more at ease then Mark's seen him since.

 

“It’s been awhile coming, it’s not some spur of the moment grief decision if that's what you're worried about. I think it’ll be good. I haven't been excited about anything in so long and it feels nice to move towards a future again. I want to follow that.”

 

Mark can't help the smile that creeps over his face.

 

“I guess we’ll have to postpone that box fort, huh?”

 

Jack finally breaks and returns a real, honest to god grin that would make the Cheshire cat swoon.

* * *

 

They spend the day dancing around the apartment to music from Jack’s phone, throwing expensive suits and various belongings into some secluded boxes in the corner of the apartment. It's cleansing, a nice breath of life that restores, if only partially, that energy Jack had been sapped of.  A few hours later as he loads the boxes in his car, Mark notices the missing hoodie peaking out from a pile of Jack's clothing on the floor. Taking it feels like a boundary he has no right in crossing, but asking would just dampen what had served as a the first wonderful day in too long. He decides to leave it be for Jack decide on his own, packing the designated boxes away as planned.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rOast Me  
> (while i really enjoy this project I can't help feel like this is so much building. i PROMISE things pop off soon)

**Author's Note:**

> Roast me


End file.
